This is gorgeous! In the wake of the death of Leavitt's wife (who used medically assisted death after a lifetime of chronic pain), she spent two years trying to process her anger and grief through her art, in ways strange, incoherent, abstract, and profoundly moving. Pages and pages divided into a grid for a comic, then filled with colours and a handful of words. Sometimes the colours have meaning, sometimes you find out what that is much later, or when Leavitt herself figures it out, or never. It's raw, and honest, and I love how it refuses to neatly package up what Leavitt felt, or leave her at a comfortable end point.

If you're on an even keel, I imagine this book would be impactful and moving. If you're currently dealing with grief, it's absolutely gutting.